


When the stars align (baby that's when you'll be mine)

by bonotje



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, First Kiss, M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-09
Updated: 2018-09-09
Packaged: 2019-07-10 08:18:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15945422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bonotje/pseuds/bonotje
Summary: His mum brushes a hand through his hair and starts to explain then. About how the mark tells him what his soulmate’s initials are. That somewhere out there, there is someone that’s made just for him.





	When the stars align (baby that's when you'll be mine)

**Author's Note:**

> Just another soulmate!AU, that hopefully has some twists from the usual trope. Enjoy :D
> 
> Thanks to Dr3amingInColour for coming up with the title :)

Max is eight when his mark appears. He’s in the middle of a karting race when nausea starts building up inside of him. He’s in the lead when the weird feeling starts swirling in his stomach, breaking his concentration. The boy he’s been keeping behind him for most of the race passes by him in a blur as his skin begins to overheat and becomes sticky with sweat. An itch crawls over his whole body and he has no way to scratch it if he wants to keep on the track.

By the end of the race 3 more karts have passed him and he’s fighting back to urge to throw up right there in his helmet. He knows his dad will be angry with him, throwing away a lead for seemingly no reason. He drags himself out of the kart slowly, clutches his helmet tightly in his hands as he slowly walks over to his father. 

He ducks his head as soon as he sees his father’s angry face, preparing himself for the barrage of angry words that will surely follow. He swallows back some bile that’s trying to make it’s way up his throat as his father starts in on him. He’s going on and on and Max is apologising quickly “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I just…” And he throws up there and then, barely avoiding his father’s leather boots. 

His chest heaves as he’s trying to catch his breath once his stomach has stopped rolling. He mumbles out another apology and looks up to find his dad look at him with a confused frown on his face. His dad’s eyes focussing in on where he’s scratching at the skin of his hand, between his thumb and pointer finger. It itches so bad now and sweat is literally running down his face in droplets. 

“Max, how about you stay at your mum’s tonight yeah?”

Max looks up at his dad, confusion written on his own face now. They were supposed to be cleaning up his kart together, working on it the next day as well. But his father is looking at him puzzled, mouth downturned but different from before when he was just angry with him. 

Everything feels weird to him then. His father is more caring than usual, his touches softer than usual as he helps him get out of his sticky racing gear. As he brushes his hair from his sweaty forehead. As he runs a thumb over the skin between his fingers slowly. 

As they arrive at his mum’s house his skin is already sticky with sweat again even though he’d only just taken a shower at the track. His mum opens the door, confused to see them when he wasn’t supposed to be staying with her tonight. 

“Max is sick and wanted his mum,” Jos says simply. And he hadn’t told his dad that he wanted his mum, but actually, yes he really does. As he thinks that he steps forward and hugs his mum tightly, his face buried into her belly. He mostly tunes out his parents then, the soft hand running through his hair soothing the headache that had started throbbing at his temple. He catches a few words here and then. 

_ “I think it’s his mark, he’s been scratching his hand a lot.”  _

_ “But he’s so young, it can’t be.” _

_ “Just keep an eye on it yeah. I just, I can’t be dealing with it tonight I’ve got things to do.”  _

_ “Fine.” _

 

“Come on Max, let’s get you into bed.” 

He sleeps then, somehow. 

.

He wakes up and there’s still some light filtering into his room. He can make out his world map with the flags of all the countries all around it on the wall opposite his bed. He focuses his eyes on one of them, tries to remember which country it belongs to, but the headache that was throbbing in his head has only gotten worse now. The nausea is a familiar heavy feeling in his stomach as he scratches over the clammy skin of his hand once more. It hurts, his skin aching and still so very itchy. He digs his nails in deeper, tries to scratch away skin like you would the silver on a scratch card. 

It doesn’t help. His eyes float back to the map, to the flag he was trying to connect to its country.  _ Australia. _ A flash of pain shoots through his head then, his stomach lurching and he’s scurrying out of his bed quickly. 

He makes it to the toilet just in time. There isn’t much left in his stomach after he threw up earlier, but his body tries its hardest to get every last bit of it out. 

“Mama, I don’t feel so good,” he chokes out as he shuffles into the living room. The TV is playing some game show, but the way his mum is twisting the straps of her bathrobe around her hands tells him she wasn’t really watching it. 

She pulls him close then, holds his right hand in hers and brushes her thumb over the skin between his thumb and pointer finger softly. He sees it then, the ever so light mark starting to appear. He knows about the marks on people’s hands of course. Knows they are important somehow, but he doesn’t know exactly why. And he doesn’t know why it has to hurt so freaking bad for it to appear. 

His mum brushes a hand through his hair and starts to explain then. About how the mark tells him what his soulmate’s initials are. That somewhere out there, there is someone that’s made just for him. 

“Why does it have to hurt so much though?” He asks, tears pooling in his eyes as his body keeps aching. 

“I don’t know sweetie, it’s really bad huh? I don’t remember it being so bad for me, I’m so sorry it is for you darling.”

The aching doesn’t stop until late the next morning, when after a fitful night sleep three dark black letters are now decorating his hand.  _ DJR.  _

 

\---

 

Daniel is 12 when he first starts noticing the marks appear on the hands of some his peers. He doesn’t mind too much then that his own hand is still the blank canvas that it has been for twelve years. He knows you get your mark when your soulmate is 16, so surely his soulmate is just closer to his own age. 

He’s sixteen and more and more of his peers and close friends have gotten their marks. Dark letters covering the skin between their thumb and pointer finger. Meanwhile his skin is still blank. He still doesn’t worry about it too much, maybe he was just a little older than his soulmate. It doesn’t stop people at school teasing him for it though. 

He’s eighteen and the teasing only gets worse, turns into vile remarks. People call him a weirdo, a pedo for having a younger soulmate. He doesn’t get it, people didn’t get made fun of if they got their marks when they were 14, didn’t get called a toyboy or girl. His mum tells him to ignore it, that it’s just high school and people will get over it once he starts college next year. He tries to believe her and make the best out of the rest of the school year, tries to keep his trademark smile on his face even though it gets harder each day. 

College doesn’t happen, instead he’s racing in Formula Renault where people don’t seem to care about the blank skin of his hand so long as he drives good races. They don’t care so he doesn’t either, just enjoys the experience of travelling around Europe to all the races. 

When he’s in Formula 3 the next year people around him start to notice the blank space on his hand, though. They don’t outright say anything nasty to him, but he still sees the disgusted looks they barely try to hide from him. 

It’s his twentieth birthday and he finds himself in a tattoo parlor at midnight after a night of drinking away his sorrows. He’s glaring at the empty space of skin, figuring he’ll take matters into his own hands. He’s picked out the letters already,  _ W.B.B.,  _ his drunken brain picking the first letters of the things around him at the time. A glass of whisky, empty bottles of beer and a bar. 

The tattoo artist manages to talk him out of it. He tells him he’s far from the first person to stumble into his tattoo shop half drunk wanting fake initials tattooed. He tells him he’s far from the oldest person he’s ever seen come in either. He tells him that there are people that get born with their marks. Meaning their soulmate is at least 16 years older than them, meaning their marks don’t show up until they’re at least 32. 

The tattoo artist manages to talk him out of getting the initials tattooed on his hand, instead he leaves the parlor with a rose on his hand, leaving just enough space for when his mark decides to finally show up. A rose because he knows he’ll love his soulmate no matter how long it takes for his mark to appear. 

 

\---

 

It takes a while before his peers start to notice the mark on his hand, they’re too busy learning new stuff and playing the new game they’ve invented that particular week. The teachers and parents are a different story though. He can’t help noticing the looks his parents get when they drop him off and pick him up at school. How the eyes from his teacher had widened almost comically when she noticed the mark on his hand on monday morning. 

He’s ten when kids start to pick on him for it, some mouthy kid has found out what the mark means and blabs about it to the whole school. Eyes follow his every move then, making his skin crawl. 

He doesn’t cry when no one wants to sit with him at lunch anymore. He doesn’t cry when he gets shoved on the playground, no matter how much his knees hurt after it. No, he doesn’t cry until he’s back home and his mum asks him about his day. 

“Why didn’t you tell me I am some abnormal freak?” He asks almost angry, as frustrated tears finally fall from his eyes. 

“Of course you aren’t sweetie. Why do you think that?”

“People at school said I was a freak because I had my mark already and you aren’t supposed to get it until you’re 16.”

“Oh darling, you’re not a freak I promise. You get your mark when your soulmate is 16 not you, so you’re soulmate is just a few years older than you. But I promise you, you are not a freak because of that.” He does the math in his head quickly, if his soulmate was 16 when he got his mark than they are 8 years older than him.

“My soulmate is eight years older than me? That’s almost my whole life!”

“I know it seems like a big difference right now, but trust me when you meet them it won’t seem like that,” his mum promises him. 

While the talk with his mum does make him stop worrying about being a freak it doesn’t stop the bullying. He’s twelve and he learns that high schoolers can be some of the most vile creatures that exist in life. He can see people’s eyes zoom in on the mark on his hand the first day of high school. Most people only send him slightly disgusted looks and don’t say anything, but it’s high school and people are already trying to gain popularity. Apparently making fun of the kid with a soulmark is the way to gain popularity. 

“Hey, hey freak have you found grandma or grandpa yet? Oh no wait, they won’t even know you exist yet.” They snigger as he walks past a group of them in the hallway.  

After ending up in detention after lashing out the first time, he learns to ignore them. The other boy hadn’t looked so smug anymore with blood running from his nose though. But it does make him think, about the fact that somewhere out there his soulmate doesn’t even know he exists yet. A thought that makes him feel a bit miserable. Would they be cursing the blank space of skin the same way he would sometimes curse the black letters on his?

By the time he graduates from high school the insults from the bullies just roll of his back as he tells them to at least get more creative with them. He knows he won’t be bothering with college, he barely managed to graduated from high school because he was away for races so much, but his mum still forces him to go to some introduction day. It’s fine, but Formula 3 is definitely a lot more interesting. 

He’s 17 when he first meets him as he’s the new Torro Rosso rookie getting introduced to everyone from the big team as well. Daniel.

 

\---

 

After his twentieth birthday he ends up back at a tattoo parlor on his birthday each year his skin remains blank. He would go back to that same one, but he’s on the road most years so he ends up googling the best tattoo shop in town instead. He doesn’t arrive half drunk and doesn’t ask for initials though. No, each year that spot of skin remains blank he adds a new tattoo to his right hand. A simple tulip appears next to the rose the first year. Then the year after a small flying paper plane gets added to the side of his pointer finger, with a shooting star joining it on the side of his thumb the year after. 

And then when he turns 24 he fills the small gap between the tulip and the rose with three flying birds. But the space between his pointer finger and thumb, in between all of the ink, remains blank still. 

He’s out celebrating a point score in the Italian Grand Prix with some of the crew. It’s nothing too crazy, but 7th place is still an amazing result for Torro Rosso. He has just downed his second shot in a row when nausea hits his stomach like a wrecking ball. He’s gasping for air as the room around him becomes sort of fuzzy, and really he’s never been such a lightweight. He shakes his head, tries to clear the fuzziness, but the bar stays blurry. 

“Shit, what was in those things?” He asks Robert, one of the mechanics that had come along. The guy just shrugs and knocks another one back like it’s Ribena. The bar isn’t too crowded, but the music is on loud enough that the guys are talking loudly around him and a headache is starting to throb at his temple. 

His stomach rolls again and sweat is making his loose t-shirt stick to his back and he needs to get out. He’s pushing himself back from the bar and blindly makes his way to the exit, gasping in fresh air as soon as it hits his face. He’s still so hot though, the cool night air not doing anything for his clammy skin. With a groan Daniel presses his face against the brick wall and squeezes his eyes shut. The shots can’t have kicked in that quickly can they? And no one else seemed to think they were strong, happily downing another one or switching to beers. 

“Daniel dude!” Someone calls out to him and slowly he turns around, pressing his back against the cool brick instead as he tries to gets his eyes to focus on the guy walking towards him. 

“You alright mate?” Jean-Éric asks with a concerned face. 

“Don’t think those shots agreed with me, might need to call it an early night,” he manages to breathe out. There’s still concern written all over Jev’s face and he gives him a sympathetic smile. 

“Okay, do you need me to call you a taxi?”

“No, it’s fine I can do it myself. Can you tell the others though, I don’t think going back in will help.”

“Yeah sure, take care yeah.”

Daniel gives him a nod and Jev disappears back inside, the music swelling up as the door opens and closes. He’s fiddling with his phone to call a taxi when one turns up just in front of him, a pretty woman in a red dress getting out followed by a guy that’s definitely punching above his weight. He steps up to the taxi before it can leave again and tells him the address of the hotel they’re staying at. 

He’s in the back of the taxi and he’s scratching at his clammy skin, his body starting to itch all over for some reason. He’s scratching at his hand and briefly wonders if his new tattoo, the three little birds he got almost 3 months ago, somehow has gotten infected, when he notices that his nails keep raking over the blank space in between the tattoos. The space where his soulmark would be. 

He lifts his hand up to his face to get a closer look, but he can’t see anything but red skin from where he’s been scratching. It still itches like hell though and he has to force himself to stop scratching at it, because if he keeps going at it like this it’ll bleed.  

He’s stumbling his way out of the taxi as soon as it stops in front of the hotel. The driver must think he’s absolutely wasted, but he can’t help it with how his vision keeps going blurry. The airconditioning in the elevator up is absolute bliss and he doesn’t care how he must look to the people already on it as he presses his face against the cool mirrored wall. His eyes falling shut as he lets out a soft groan, his breath fogging up the mirror. As he blinks his eyes open he can barely make his own face out from where the mirror is fogged up and his vision is still swimming as well. Someone has to tell him they’re on his floor and he sends a polite smile in their general direction as he pushes himself from the wall.  

The second he’s in his room he’s peeling his now soaked shirt from his back and dragging his jeans down from where they are clinging to his legs. Once he’s fully naked he sprawls himself out on top of the plush bed, his hand blindly looking for the remote for the aircon. He pushes at the buttons until the aircon is on high, making him almost shiver against the cold, but it’s a welcome reprieve from how his skin was overheating before. 

The headache from before is back and he’s resorted to keeping his eyes shut as he kept struggling to focus his eyes. He somehow falls asleep like that, sprawled out naked on top of the sheets. 

When he wakes up he’s shivering against the cold. He crawls underneath the sheets and almost misses it, his brain still clogged with sleep, until he’s reaching for the remote control to turn the aircon off. Three black letters have now filled the space that had been left blank on his right hand.  _ MEV.  _

 

\---

 

Daniel is just another person he meets in the big Formula 1 world at first. Someone in a big mass of people that shakes his hand. And while the big grin on Daniel’s face does catch his eye their first meeting still blends into the big blur of meeting everyone. 

He’s not really thought about his soulmate for a long time, with racing really taking off the last couple of years, so he doesn’t notice the letters on Daniel’s hand when they shake hands. And he doesn’t register the way his mark flares up red underneath Daniel’s thumb as their skin touches. 

So for a year and a half Daniel just stays that driver on the big team, the one with the big smile that everyone loves, the one that charms the pants off everyone around him. But he’s still just this guy he only nods at in the paddock and barely sees otherwise. The guy he wants to replace one day. 

That is until May 5th 2016, when all of a sudden he’s a Red Bull Racing driver and Daniel is his new teammate. 

 

\---

 

When he just gets his mark it’s all he can think about, the fact that he actually has a soulmate out there somewhere. He’s giddy like his classmates were when they got their marks when he was in high school. He tries to catch the letters on other people’s hands to see if they match his name, tries to leave little touches to see if his mark flares up. But the fact that he had to wait so long for his mark to even appear doesn’t mean he meets his soulmate faster. 

Eventually he stops obsessing over it so much, figures he’s already waited so long to even get his mark, he can wait some more. He gets promoted to Red Bull Racing the next year and all his attention is on the car. He wins three races and finishes on the podium 5 more times, resulting in a 3rd place in the championship and he couldn’t be happier. 

The next year Jean-Éric, one of his best mates in this crazy F1 world, gets replaced by some young up and coming guy. Max. 

Their meeting is nothing special, he gives him one of his usual friendly smiles and then goes on with his day. He doesn’t notice the way his mark turns bright red underneath Max’s thumb as they shake hands. 

His season that year is pretty shit, only 2 podiums and no win compared to the 8 podiums and three wins the year before is not what he wanted for his second year at Red Bull. He tries to forget the season quickly, enjoying his summer break then focussing on the next season quickly.  

The news breaks not long after the Russian Grand Prix, Daniil will be replaced by Max. He had noticed the Dutchman last season of course, the rookie of the grid finishing with a decent amount of points in his first season, but hadn’t paid him too much attention otherwise. And now all of a sudden they would be teammates. 

 

\---

 

He wins, he wins his first race at Red Bull. He’d gotten a bit lucky with the Mercedes drivers crashing into each other for sure, but still a win is a win! A grin is splitting his face as he jumps onto the highest step and listens to the Dutch national anthem. The champagne sticks to his skin as the Ferrari drivers aim their bottles at him and he’s just so happy. 

The press conference afterwards is a blur of questions he tries to answer succinctly and then he’s lead to the press circle for even more questions. He lets out a sigh as he’s finally back in the Red Bull energy station, the hubbub around him forming a pleasant background noise as he finally lets the happenings of the day really sink in.

All of a sudden there’s an arm slung over his shoulder and Daniel is saying, “You were amazing out there.” But all Max can focus on is his right hand. His right hand where three letters are flaring up bright red. 

“It’s you.”

“What?” Daniel asks confused. 

“It’s you,” Max says again as he shoves his hand in Daniel’s face to show his soulmark. It’s still bright red as Daniel’s arm is still slung over his shoulder. And instead of pulling his arm back to look at his own mark, Daniel just pulls his arm closer to his face from around Max’s  shoulder, nearly choking him in the process. 

“Wow, yeah,” Daniel says with a stunned expression. And his face is still so close to Max, his body warm against his own through the fireproofs still clinging to his body. His face flushes as a pleasant tingle runs down his spine at their close proximity. 

“Can you stop choking me for a second so we can actually talk about what this means,” he manages to get out after Daniel just keeps staring at his own hand. 

“Right, sorry,” Daniel says sheepishly. 

Max points towards where their driver rooms are, figuring they should take this somewhere a bit more private and with a nod Daniel follows him. He sits down on the makeshift sofa heavily and looks down at his hand again. It’s not red anymore now that Daniel isn’t touching him, but he kinda wishes it was as he’s already missing Daniel’s touch. He shakes his head at himself, 5 minutes ago he barely knew the guy and now he wanted him to keep touching him forever? Was this some side effect of being soulmates? 

“Well I guess this means we’re meant for each other or something,” Daniel speaks up from the other side of the room. He’s got one of his legs up against the wall behind him and keeps stroking over his soulmark, not meeting Max’s eye.

“Did you want it to be someone else?” Max asks, all of a sudden feeling unsure of himself.  

“No, no of course not. I just… I just never really thought about what it’d be like when I finally met them… you. I’ve only had this for a little over 2 years you know, I’m still getting used to it to be honest.” Daniel says sounding unsure as well, still not meeting his eyes. 

“I’ve had nearly ten years and I still haven’t got a clue,” Max chuckles. 

“We’ll figure it out, right?” Daniel asks, finally meeting Max’s blue eyes with his own beautiful brown ones. And wait where did that come from? This soulmate business was gonna be interesting for sure. 

“Yes. Now can you please come here,” Max says whilst patting the empty space beside him. 

Dan shakes his head with a laugh and pushes himself away from the wall. He lets himself fall down next to Max with an excited grin on his face and Max can’t help but match it with a grin of his own.  

“Can I kiss you now?” Daniel grins, wiggling his eyebrows around and Max can already see himself shaking his head at this silly soulmate of his, for the rest of his life.

“Yes,” Max breathes out nodding excitedly as Daniel’s excitement seems to be catching. 

He feels Daniel shift around next to him, pushing himself closer to Max. And then Dan’s hands are on his cheeks, rubbing soft circles over them as Daniel’s face comes closer and closer. He feels his eyes fall shut before their lips even touch, Daniel’s breath warm against his lips and then finally they meet. It’s soft and slow and not at all like he’d expected, but it’s everything he didn’t know he wanted. 

His heart flutters as Daniel’s lips keep moving over his own and he feels a pleasant hum go through his body, like a part of him just clicks in place. He feels like he never wants to stop kissing this man, so keep on kissing him he does. Bolstered by the happiness swirling in his belly he kisses firmer, opens his mouth and runs his tongue over Daniel’s still closed lips. They fall open for him easily and then they’re really kissing, mouths smacking together as their tongues touch. 

They kiss and kiss until the need for air overtakes the need to keep kissing. They both gasp in the air they so desperately needed, eyes blinking open slowly. And he’s sure the dazed expression he can see on Daniel’s face is right there on his own as well, a smile spreading out on his face at the thought. 

“That was amazing. You’re amazing,” Daniel repeats his earlier words. And it’s way too soon for Dan to be calling him amazing, but he can’t help but think the same of the other man. All of this will surely take some getting used to, their lives changing massively, but they’ll figure it out. He knows they’ll figure it out. 

“So are you.”  

 

~~The End~~

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. As always kudos and comments make my little writers heart soar. And you can find me on tumblr at [sleepysuggles](http://www.sleepysuggles.tumblr.com)


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